Dead Men Tell No Tales
by Darkfire75
Summary: Francis knew he was dead almost immediately. This is a very late Halloween fic OTL
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's note:**__ Oh hey look, another new fic 8D This one is very late for Halloween but I wrote it all in one night at least. I broke it up into 4 chapters. This is just the first one to give you a taste~ Basically, I got this idea from the character Halloween outfits. France was a ghost and England was a vampire and I just worked the story from there :3 And I really don't know what time period this is taking place in...or where exactly orz. Hope you like it anyway!_

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_**Chapter 1**

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Francis knew he was dead almost immediately. His corpse was lying at his feet, the light gone from his eyes, blood pooling around his head where his killer had attacked him. He sighed a little, staring down at his body. It was lying out in the middle of no where on the docks. No one would find him until morning, possibly later.

He looked around to see if anyone was there, so that he could at least try and point them to his body's location. Of course he had been the only one on the docks at that time of night. "Foolish," he mumbled to himself. He moved, well, _glided_ away from the crime scene and down the docks back towards the town.

By chance he saw a blue cape in the distance. Perhaps someone he could try and communicate with? He literally flew towards the person, a man about his height with dirty blonde hair, green eyes, and horribly bushy eyebrows. Instantly, the man drew back and started looking all around.

"Who's there?" he growled.

"Me!" Francis called, but it seemed the man couldn't hear him. He decided to try and reach out, but that only made the man jump.

"Show yourself!"

Francis felt irritated with this man already. "Don't you think I would if I could?" But it was no use. The man could apparently feel him but he couldn't hear or see him.

The man scowled angrily, bearing what looked like…where those fangs? Francis got closer to him and determined that yes, this individual had very sharp teeth. Well, everyone had strange hobbies, he supposed.

"If you decide to stop being a coward, you can search me out in the old mansion on the hill," the man said suddenly and Francis was certain he had seen his eyes flash red. Without anyone else even able to feel his presence, Francis decided he'd just follow the man into the bar. Why a nobleman (he must have been, from the way he was dressed) would enter a seedy bar in town was anyone's guess. Perhaps he knew someone in there?

Francis was slowly getting used to his life as a ghost. For a brief moment, when he glided through the front door, he almost thought he was alive again; That the barman would call out his name and ask if he wanted a drink. Instead, the man took a seat at the bar and began to stare at the other patrons like a hungry wolf.

Francis sat next to him and leaned in close. The man jumped a little, glaring at him and yet not really seeing him. "Did you follow me?" he snarled. Francis decided to answer him by flicking his forehead. He swore under his breath. "Look, whoever you are, just leave me the fuck alone. I'm busy."

Busy. Sure. Francis wanted to roll his eyes. From what he could see, the man was into some strange things and really wasn't in the mood to witness it. So he glided out the front door and waited. An hour passed and that same man came strolling out of the bar with a scantily clad woman who was hanging onto his arm. She had on far too much makeup and her bosom was a few strings short of bouncing right out into view. No wonder the man wanted to take her home.

As Francis glided after them down the dark streets, he noticed the man's hungry stare. He wasn't looking at the woman's breasts, as most men would. He was staring at her neck, licking his lips as though about to bite her. Before either Francis or the woman knew what was happening, the man had launched himself on her, latching his mouth onto her neck. He sunk his teeth in and the woman screamed and it was horrible. Francis could do nothing but watch as this man brutalized this poor, helpless woman. There was blood pouring from her neck and this nobleman was sucking it away, drinking it as though he were a…a vampire.

"Stop! Can't you see she's almost dead?" Francis cried but no one heard him. His voice echoed around the street but only he could hear it. The woman was crying and clinging to the man now, sobbing uncontrollably. Francis saw the light leave her eyes.

"Oh God…" That's when he saw that same woman, now just as transparent as he, standing beside her corpse. She was staring down at it, horrified and frightened. "H-He…"

"I saw," Francis mumbled and she turned to look at him. "I saw what he did."

"He's a _monster_!" Her eyes were wild in her fear. "Who will tell my sister I am gone? I am all she has!"

"I'm sorry," Francis said. "I, too, am dead. Earlier tonight."

She was able to calm herself down enough to really look at him. "Did you see who did it?"

He shook his head. "He came up from behind. Sliced through the back of my head with something."

"W-What do we do now?" She watched as the man carried her corpse and dumped it into the trash bin.

"Move on, I suppose."

"W-Will you come with me?" She was so scared and hopeful.

Francis shook his head again. "I have business with that man."

"What?" she growled. "But he just—"

"I know. But he's the only one that can sense me. I need his help."

The woman backed away from him. "You're cruel! I hope you never find who killed you!" She disappeared almost instantly and he sighed.

"Making enemies even in the afterlife," he mused. In the aftermath of everything, he had neglected to see where the man, vampire, whatever he was, had went. Francis' only clue was the mansion on the hill. Sure enough, his quarry was in there, wiping his mouth clean of the blood he had just devoured. Francis forced himself to get closer, almost on top of him and the man whirled around.

"I know you're here," he hissed. "Did you watch me kill that girl? Did you see me drain her of her blood?" He was smirking now, proud of himself. Francis wanted to be sick. "What do you want from me?"

Since Francis lacked the ability to show himself, he decided making a loud noise was the next best thing. So he knocked over the lamp on the table. Well, he tried to. All he managed to do was make the light flicker. He glared at his transparent hand, apparently unable to touch solid objects. Yet. He could work on that.

"Still lacking power, hmm?" the man taunted, lounging down on a huge sofa. "You must be newly dead then. Perhaps I should introduce myself since you seem so fixated on me. My name is Arthur Kirkland. And I'm an unnatural creature of the night." His eyes flashed red and even though Francis was dead, he felt chills.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Author's note:**__ Oh hey. Sorry for the wait ^^;; So here's chapter 2 of this very belated Halloween-themed fic. A new character shows up in this chapter hurrhurr. I'll let you guess who it is XD Um...not much else to say other than I hope you enjoy!_

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_**Chapter 2****

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**'Living' with Arthur wasn't something planned. Francis had no where else to go. He went to check on his body in the early morning and discovered that the police had found it, finally, but there wasn't going to be much they could do in finding out who did it. Wonderful. Arthur slept during the day, which immediately put a damper on things Francis wanted to get done.

So while he slept in his bed (that Francis called a coffin), Francis was left to work on his ghost…ness. He tried picking up a pencil to write but it always fell before he could get a good grip on it. He tried banging on furniture but he just went through it instead. It was frustrating. All horror films had ghosts that could do amazing things. Why was he one of the unlucky ones? Arthur was up at dusk, yawning and looking around the mansion as though hoping to see his mystery guest.

"Still here?" he called.

Francis grumbled out an "Obviously" but that was left unheard. Francis ended up gliding around every floor of the mansion, hoping to find _something_ he could use to communicate with. There was a giant mirror in Arthur's bedroom and Francis thought perhaps he could try and manifest himself in it. All he managed to do was make his hand show up for a few minutes. Arthur came back up to his room with some sort of red drink in his hand. Did he keep blood at his home as well?

"I know you're in here," Arthur said casually. "Trying to use the mirror to manifest?"

"I can't do it," Francis replied.

As though sensing that was his reply, Arthur shrugged. "Try harder. We have centuries to wait. I'm in no rush." He grinned, flashing those horrible fangs.

Francis wanted to punch him. Unfortunately, his fist would only go through his head, which might have been satisfying if his hand was still solid. His anger, however, seemed to be what fueled him. He looked into the mirror and saw himself. His full body. Arthur noticed as well and stood up to go look.

"Well…not how I imagined you," he said. "But good job. You've discovered the secret all ghosts must learn when they want to communicate." Francis glared at him through the mirror. "Getting me to hear you will take some more time." Francis faded from the mirror and glided around the room, sitting down on the bed. Arthur sat down inside of him and coughed, jumping up immediately. "Don't just sit on my bed!" he snapped.

Francis decided he had had enough of him for the moment and glided down to the sitting room. He tried to make himself angry again. He imagined pushing Arthur, showing his rage, his disgust. He reached out for the pencil on the lamp stand and surprised himself by being able to lift it. He struggled a bit but was finally able to write his first name down.

Arthur came downstairs again and saw the piece of paper. "Francis, huh?" He looked around the room. "How did it happen?"

"I was killed, obviously," Francis hissed.

"I suppose you want my help figuring that out," Arthur said with a heavy sigh. "I'm no detective. And as you can tell I have my own needs to take care of. I can't be worried over one little ghost."

"You're the only one that can sense me!"

It was almost as if Arthur heard him that time. "Am I really the only one?" he said. "No family or friends you can go haunt?"

Francis slammed his hand down on the coffee table and Arthur actually jumped. Had he made that sound? Francis stared at his hand in awe.

"All right, I'll help," Arthur growled. "But I need a snack first."

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Francis started getting used to being around the vampire. It was strange and uncomfortable at times, but at least Arthur couldn't see him when he wanted to be alone with his thoughts. The woman Arthur had killed had had a point. What were ghosts supposed to do? Move on? And how did one do that exactly?

He wanted to ask someone but there was literally no one _to_ ask. Arthur seemed to be able to sense him more and more now. He could find Francis whenever Francis didn't want to be found.

"I'm sure you're wondering how I always know where you are now," Arthur said a couple days after they started, well, living together. "You give off this disgusting scent. Like perfume."

"Cologne," Francis spat back. "It's cologne, you idiot."

Since Arthur still couldn't hear him, his anger was completely one-sided. He hated waiting for Arthur to return after his "meals". It wasn't until a few days later did Francis start noticing someone following him around. It wasn't another ghost. But it was someone he was afraid of, that much was certain. Arthur didn't seem to notice anything.

Francis kept working on channeling his anger. He was able to lift objects now and he could touch Arthur without going through him at least. Arthur jumped a few times, which was pleasing. He was finally able to spell out his last name and the words _Killed_ and _Head_. Worried Arthur wouldn't be able to figure out what he meant, Francis started pacing the room furiously until Arthur finally snapped out, "I feel you, so knock it off! I'm trying to think." He stared at the scribbled words on the piece of paper curiously. "Killed…head…Where you mental?" Francis threw the pencil at him. "Ow. Fine, you weren't mental. Let's see…you were killed by…getting hit in the head?"

"…Close enough," Francis said, gliding over to him.

"You weren't decapitated, were you?"

"No, but I might as well have been."

Francis was essentially just talking to himself since Arthur couldn't hear him still. "So some maniac came after you with the intent to kill…and succeeded. And he's still out there. Great." Arthur rubbed at his temples. "I need to feed."

Francis had no say in the matter and watched his only companion leave into the night. As soon as Arthur was gone, he felt the ominous presence again and ended up hiding in Arthur's bedroom. He curled himself up on the bed sheets and prayed that whatever it was that was after him would go away. Then he saw a red eye peering at him from the window and let out a shriek.

The figure burst into the room and clamped its hand down over Francis' mouth. He gazed at this person with wide translucent eyes. He was wearing a dark black robe, the hood up over the head so that only the glowing red eyes could be seen. He was carrying what looked like a giant pitch fork.

"Calm the fuck down," he snarled, taking his hand away.

"Who are you? How can you see me?" Francis was panicking and for good reason. This person had been stalking him for days. What could he possibly want?

"I'm a Reaper, duh." He sat down, balancing on his pitch fork. "You're kinda dead. And I kinda have to take you with me."

"No!" Francis cried. "There's something I have to do before then!"

Red eyes narrowed. "Like…?"

"I'm going to find my killer."

The Reaper started to laugh, well, cackle really. "Find your killer?" he repeated once he was done laughing. "By invoking the help of a vampire?"

"He's the only one who can sense me," Francis mumbled.

"And what will you do once you find this killer?"

Francis paused. What _would_ he do? Send Arthur in to kill him? Would Arthur risk his own immortal life for one simple ghost?

"You don't even have a plan," the Reaper taunted. He cocked his head to the side. "Tell you what. I won't reap you today." Francis looked at him in surprise. "But you have a month to track down your killer before I come here and take you with me. No struggle next time."

"I promise," Francis replied, beyond relieved. He hadn't realized he'd been shaking.

The Reaper nodded, quite satisfied, and hopped onto the windowsill. "Remember. I'll be back in a month." And with that he was gone, vanishing from sight. Not a second later, Francis could hear Arthur coming in through the front door. He quickly floated down to him, accidentally moving through him.

"Gah, could you try not to do that?" Arthur snarled, taking off his coat. His lips were covered in dried blood. "Anything exciting happen while I was gone?"

"Unless you count a Reaper out for my head, then no," Francis grumbled.

Arthur suddenly whirled around, eyes wide. "What did you just say?" he said quickly.

Francis stared right back at him. He could hear...? "You heard me?"

"Yes! Yes I can hear you!" Arthur smiled a little. "Very good, Francis. You've been practicing."

"I…I don't know what I did…"

"Regardless, this is very good progress. I can't see you yet but that's fine." Arthur sat down, thoughtful. "Did you say something about a Reaper before?"

Francis sat down next to him. "He told me I have a month to find my killer before he comes back and takes me away."

"Away? To where?"

"Where…things like me go, I suppose."

Arthur's eyes narrowed. "That isn't much time. Do you remember anything about the night you died? Anything at all?"

Francis thought back to that night. He'd been doing his rounds on the dock, making sure there were no trespassers. His killer had snuck up on him, hadn't said a word, but Francis remembered the sound of heavy boots. And the start of a motor. Like a chainsaw. "He was wearing heavy boots," he said. "And holding a chainsaw."

"Chainsaw?" Arthur's eyebrows furrowed. "That's an unusual weapon to just carry around…"

"Yes, well, he shoved it through my skull. I haven't the luxury to think about how unusual it is."

Arthur chuckled. "Awfully pissy for a ghost. Did you see what he looked like?"

"No," Francis sighed. "He came up behind me."

"I see. Well. It's a start." Arthur stood up. "I'm going to clean up. You can do whatever you want I suppose."

"Arthur." The vampire turned. "There's something I want to ask you."

"Well go on then."

"When we find this person who killed me…will you kill him?"

Arthur was silent for a few moments, contemplating. Then he looked up with cold eyes. "No, I won't." He walked into the kitchen and Francis didn't bother him the rest of the day.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Author's note: **I HAVE NO EXCUSE FOR POSTING SO LATE. But at least it's in time for Halloween? orz This chapter is terribly short so I'll post the final chapter right after. I don't like how it ends but…I made you all wait long enough. As a side note, I know Alfred is a bit OOC here but I figure he has to be a little wild and crazy to be a serial killer. Plus psycho!Alfred is fun to write. _

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**Chapter 3**

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As the days passed, Francis was able to do more and more. He could lift heavy objects and he could physically touch Arthur now. He still wasn't able to manifest, at least enough so that Arthur could see him. They both ended up scouring the town for potential suspects. Francis was able to go around undetected. Arthur, on the other hand, tended to stop for a snack (Francis hated using that term) along the way.

Eventually they were able to narrow down their search to a few people. Two of them owned chainsaws. Arthur ended up being the one to investigate further. He hated that it cut into his feeding time, but Francis felt he needed to cut down anyway. One of the men, Alfred Jones, if Francis remembered right, seemed to be a prime suspect. Arthur had said he'd smelled a lot of blood in the man's yard. Arthur had studied him for about a week before telling Francis.

"He doesn't smell normal," he snarled. "There's an evil there."

"Do you think it's him?" Francis asked.

"I can't be certain. You can scope him out if you want."

And so Francis did. He found the little house outside of town, conveniently hidden in the forest. There were tree stumps all around the house and so Francis guessed Alfred was cutting trees down along with people. Had he been the first victim? Were there more? Francis glided through the front door and if he hadn't been dead, he might have screamed. Alfred was standing in the middle of the room with his chainsaw, sharpening it on this strange mechanism. The glasses on his face were glinting, giving off a very frightening appearance.

Francis didn't like him almost immediately. Like Arthur had said, there was something just off about him. Francis moved around the house, looking for anything that might show that this was his killer. The phone suddenly rang and Francis turned to see Alfred sigh and go answer it.

"Jones speaking," he said. "No, I had nothin' to do with that stupid dockhand's death, Mattie. Fuck, don't you ever drop anything?" Francis felt frozen. "So what if they think a chainsaw was the weapon? A lot of people got chainsaws around here! Case you didn't notice we live around a forest." Alfred kicked his boots on the floor. His muddy boots—was that blood? Francis moved closer, almost afraid the tall man would see him. "Whatever. Don't bother comin' 'round for Christmas this year, asshole." Alfred threw the telephone down angrily. Francis saw rage on his face. "Stupid fucker," he grumbled. "Thinks he's so hot 'cause he's a cop now. Pssh."

He lifted the chainsaw up over his shoulder, carrying it with ease and that's when he knew. Francis knew this had to be the man that killed him.

"You're sure?" Arthur asked as soon as Francis returned.

"Yes. It's him. His brother was the lead officer on my case and he lied to him. He said he had nothing to do with my death but…I knew."

"So…what are you going to do?"

Francis shrugged. "What _can_ I do? I'm dead."

Arthur cocked his head to the side. "I might…be willing to kill him. _If _you can show yourself to me."

Francis stared at him. "But—"

"I believe you can do it."

Determined, Francis started working harder. He practiced in front of the mirror again and again, trying to feed off his anger towards Alfred. He wanted to see him suffer. He wanted him dead, in a pool of his own blood just like he had left Francis. Before Francis knew it, he could see himself through the mirror. He looked almost alive again…except he was transparent. And had a bloody gash on the back of his head.

"Arthur!" he called. "Come see!"

Footsteps pounded up the stairs and once the vampire entered the room, his eyes widened. "You did it," he whispered, surprise evident on his face.

"Are you going to keep your promise?" Francis glared at him accusingly. Arthur held up his hands in surrender.

"I don't go back on my word. Besides, I haven't had a satisfying meal in ages."

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_Omnomnom. _


	4. Chapter 4

_**Author's note: **HERE IT IS. THE FINAL CHAPTER. There is some action and violence and just an awesome scene I had fun writing. Like I s__aid before, not a big fan of the ending but…I ran out of ideas and figured this is good enough for what I wanted. So technically no pairing here, though there are/were hints of FrUk throughout the fic. I just hope you guys liked it, even though it took so long to finish. OTL _

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**Chapter 4 **

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Getting Alfred alone wouldn't be too hard. He lived in the woods, far away from everyone else. Arthur needed to rely on his stealth and speed to get the job done. And Francis would be along for the show. He wanted to watch Arthur drain the life from Alfred.

"What if he kills you?" Francis asked suddenly, as they were preparing to leave.

"He won't," Arthur laughed.

"But what if he does?"

Arthur narrowed his eyes at him. "Are you really concerned for me, or would that just put a damper on your plans?"

Francis glared right back at him. "I won't say I've grown fond of you, but if you were to die, it'd be very lonely until the Reaper came back for me."

There was a long silence. Arthur eventually shrugged. "If I die," he said, "and that's a big 'if', he would have to cut my head clean off my shoulders. But there are many factors which will be put into play that will prevent this. One, he's human. He's slow and he's carrying around a large heavy weapon almost as big as himself. Two, I'm fast. You've never seen me actually fight before but let's say I'm faster than the human eye can blink. And three, he just won't."

"You're very confident," Francis stated.

"I'm confident in my abilities, there's a difference."

Francis decided arguing with him wasn't worth it. "Did you stock up?"

"I spent all last night drinking the blood in my storage. I'll have you know it took nearly a year to collect all of it."

"You can always get more."

"Yes, but it won't be from _that_ year."

Francis rolled his eyes. They were about to go confront his killer, and all Arthur could complain about was using up all his vintage blood to get stronger. Once they were ready, Arthur took off like a shot, running at speeds Francis couldn't even keep up with. Arthur was already sneaking into the house when Francis arrived. He followed the vampire inside, fully visible now, at least to Arthur. A human's eye wouldn't be able to detect him.

Arthur was sniffing the air. A shadow appeared to loom over him and Francis turned, eyes widening as he saw Alfred standing right behind Arthur. "Arthur!" he hissed.

Arthur's eyes narrowed to slits. "Hello there," he said.

"Who the fuck are you?" Alfred growled, lifting his chainsaw off his shoulder. "How'd you get into my home?" Arthur remained were he was, a small smirk on his lips. That only seemed to make Alfred angrier. "Dude, I asked you a question." He raised the chainsaw and revved it up. "Now fucking answer." Francis saw the insanity in him almost instantly. He wanted to kill. He was going to cut Arthur's head off and Arthur was just _standing_ there doing nothing!

"Are you going to make me?" Arthur taunted, smirk growing wider; predatory. This was a game to him.

Without warning, Alfred let out a cry and swung the chainsaw down with ease. But Arthur was no where to be seen. Alfred blinked a few times at the empty space in front of him. "What the—?"

Francis saw Arthur appear right behind the man, eyes flashing a dangerous red. "Too slow," he said.

Alfred whirled around with wide eyes, swinging his chainsaw down again, but only hitting air. "What the fuck are you?" he cried, looking all around.

Arthur appeared right in front of him until they were nose to nose. "Your worst nightmare." He delivered a swift kick to Alfred's abdomen and disappeared in a flash once more. Francis wanted to laugh. Arthur was overpowering him! Alfred was no match for a vampire.

Alfred screamed and swung his chainsaw around and around, destroying furniture and a wall. Arthur was outside now, still smirking. He beckoned for Alfred to come join him. "I'm not done playing with you yet," he sneered. Alfred's eyes were wide and deranged. He was in a rage. He wanted Arthur dead.

"I'm gonna fuckin' chop your smirking head off! Then we'll see who's laughing!" He ran forward, faster than Francis had thought he'd be with a heavy weapon. Alfred slashed around but kept missing. Arthur started to laugh.

"Is that the best you can do~?"

"Fuck you!" Alfred thrust his weapon forward at the grinning vampire, but Arthur was faster than he could ever anticipate and dodged once again. "Ain't you gonna stop running like a coward and actually fight me?"

Arthur stopped to look at him; this was a wild and psychotic human with a lust for blood, almost like himself. Alfred smiled cruelly, showing off perfect white teeth. "Yeah, that's right," he said. "Come fucking fight me."

Arthur shrugged off his coat. "If that's what you want." In an instant, he was on the move. Francis saw him attack from the right, hitting Alfred upside the head, but he was gone so fast Alfred had no time to react, and he managed to kick Alfred's left knee. It crunched under the pressure and Alfred screamed as he fell to the ground. He used the chainsaw to brace himself on his now broken leg. He glared at Arthur hatefully.

"What _are_ you?" he snarled again.

"Something you can't win against," Arthur said.

"Why are you h-here?" He struggled to stand. His glasses were cracked and he threw them onto the ground.

"I'm here to seek revenge for someone."

"Huh?"

But Arthur was moving again. Francis watched as he bared his fangs and leapt at Alfred, clawing at his back and managing to draw blood. Immediately, Arthur's demeanor changed. His eyes went blood red and he licked the blood from his nails. "Tasty," he purred. Alfred let out a war cry, stumbling as he stood and ran forward brandishing his chainsaw like it was nothing.

Arthur moved behind him and Alfred stopped in his tracks, slowly turning around. Alfred wasn't scared, just angry, Francis noted. Arthur was like a pesky mosquito, buzzing around and around, waiting for the perfect moment to land and get his prize. "You need to fuckin' die," Alfred hissed.

"I'm sorry, I can't do that."

Alfred shrieked again and stumbled forward, swinging his chainsaw down with incredible strength. He missed, of course, but it was an admirable try. Francis was getting excited. Any minute now Arthur would finish it and then he could watch Alfred die the same way he watched Francis die. But Arthur liked playing with his food, so to speak. He hadn't had a good fight in centuries and this was entertaining for him.

"Just end it!" Francis snapped.

"Oh hush," Arthur replied. "I'm enjoying myself."

"Talking to yourself now?" Alfred laughed, coming up behind Arthur and swinging his chainsaw down.

"Hardly." Arthur quickly side-stepped and avoided the blow.

Alfred limped after him swinging his chainsaw around wildly. "Stop moving away!"

"If you won't do something, _I_ will!" Francis said. And before Arthur could even say anything to stop him, Francis was picking up a rock and throwing it at Alfred's head. It connected and it took the man several moments to process that a rock had just thrown itself at him.

"…the hell?" He was looking around with wide eyes. "Can you turn invisible too?"

"Ha, I wish," Arthur drawled. "No, that would be the person I was talking to earlier."

"W-What?" He suddenly looked afraid. Arthur noticed immediately and smirked. Francis decided to throw another rock. Alfred's eyes were wide as he looked from Arthur to where Francis was standing. "What the hell's going on?"

"Don't you know?" Arthur walked closer to him. "It's the ghost of the man you killed."

Alfred paled, dropping his chainsaw. "G-Ghost? Fuck that, I don't do well with that kinda shit! I'm outta here!" He tried limping away, but Francis was not about to let him get away. He grabbed an axe leaning against the house and watched as Alfred screamed like a girl. "Oh my god, call it off! Make it stop! Please! Fuck!" He ran and scrambled to get away, utterly terrified.

"You're able to kill without mercy, but a ghost is what scares you?" Arthur snarled in his ear. "_I_ don't scare you?"

Alfred shook his head. "G-Ghosts just ain't right!"

"Kill him now," Francis spat.

Arthur held up his hand to silence him. "Not just yet," he whispered. Alfred was shaking, looking all around for Francis even though he would never be able to see him.

"Where is it?" Alfred stood up, or tried to. He could barely lift himself on his broken leg. He started swinging his chainsaw around again, thinking that he could get rid of a ghost. Francis wanted to laugh. He watched Alfred try and try to hit him but miss every time. And just as Alfred was going to swing again, Arthur bent his head back by his hair and bit his neck. He sunk his fangs in deep, enjoying the way Alfred stared at him from the corner of his widened eye. Arthur drank until he could no more. Francis glided to stand over Alfred's corpse, eyes still wide and mouth open in shock.

"Are you satisfied now?" Arthur asked, standing up. The blood was dripping from his mouth but he wiped it away with his sleeve.

Francis knelt down and continued to just stare before standing back up. "I am," he said. "He got what he deserved."

"You still have a few days left before the month ends," Arthur pointed out. "What are you going to do?"

"All I _can_ do," Francis sighed. "Wait for the Reaper."

Arthur frowned but decided lingering around wasn't wise. He hurried back to the mansion, Francis close behind. There wasn't much to talk about now. Francis' killer was dead. It was over. His need for Arthur was complete, but he stayed in the house. He didn't want to be alone in his final days on Earth.

So when the Reaper appeared once again, Francis was ready. Arthur wasn't, and he let out an ear-splitting scream as he saw both Francis and the Reaper standing in his room.

"Who the bloody—?"

"This is the Reaper, Arthur," Francis sighed. "He's come for me."

The Reaper gave a two-finger salute. "Yo."

"'Yo'?" the vampire repeated. "'_Yo_'? Is that all you have to say?"

"Uh…what's up?"

Arthur grabbed at his head in frustration. "Nevermind. Just…take the lousy bugger away already."

"Arthur—"

"Leave, Francis. Out of my sight."

Francis looked at the Reaper, who shrugged. He glided over to the vampire, whose back was turned stubbornly and wrapped his arms around his shoulders. Arthur tensed immediately. "Thank you," Francis whispered, before moving away.

Arthur turned around quickly with wide eyes. "W-Wait!"

Francis looked back at him, giving a small smile. "What, my friend?"

The Reaper was leaning on his pitch fork, looking between the two of them. "Oh please don't get all mushy," he groaned. "I really can't handle it."

Arthur glared at him but moved closer to Francis. "You're welcome," he mumbled. "It was…nice to have met you."

Francis grinned. "Will you miss me, Arthur?"

"The house will be much cleaner without you around, and I'll be able to go back to my normal habits, but…yes. I suppose I will." He looked away in embarrassment.

Francis leaned in and kissed his forehead. "Then perhaps we'll meet again someday, hmm?" he said.

"I doubt it," he grumbled, feeling the cold spot where Francis' lips had touched.

"Goodbye, Arthur." Francis reached out for the Reaper's hand, who gladly took it. In almost an instant there was a bright light, which Arthur had to shield his eyes from, and then they were gone.

"Goodbye…Francis," he whispered, but no one could hear him.

* * *

_Good bye, sexy ghost. _


End file.
